


Cake It Easy

by Inktastic1711



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Baking Disaster, Birthday, Cake, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Steve is trying so hard, clint is insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inktastic1711/pseuds/Inktastic1711
Summary: Clint doesn't do birthdays. Steve wants to bake him a cake anyway.Fills Clint Barton Birthday Bash Bingo Square 3: Cake
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Clint Barton Birthday Bash





	Cake It Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to vexbatch for all the cheerleading not to give up on finishing this!

Steve knew that Clint’s birthday was coming up. He knew when everyone’s birthday was coming up, because he had access to their personnel files and an eidetic memory. So he had been eyeing every purple object he came across in hopes for inspiration, relieved at least that Clint seemed to be as uncomfortable with ostentatious gifts as he was, but still clueless as to what he could gift him.

About a week before the day, they were laying on Steve’s absurdly large, but definitely worth it, couch, lazily waiting for some takeout to arrive when Steve just asked. 

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” 

“I don’t do birthdays,” Clint shrugged nonchalantly against Steve, “But you could do the thing with your tongue, if you really want,” he winked.

“You’re deflecting,”

“Aww, look who’s using their therapy words,” Clint teased, not unkindly.

“Hey!” He shoved Clint playfully, “I mean it though, you love parties and stuff, why not birthdays?”

“Just,” he shrugged against Steve’s shoulder, “Nothing worth celebrating usually. Don’t worry about it, Rogers.”

Steve let it go.

Later, he texted Natasha.

_What are you doing for Clint’s birthday?_

**_We may get together to share a bottle of vodka._ **

_Vodka?_

**_Cupcake vodka. It’s festive._ **

_...does it taste like cupcakes?_

**_It tastes like sugar._ **

Steve had baked birthday cakes before, many times. He was actually fairly good at it. Sure it had been 1942 the last time he had baked a cake. But he still knew the recipe by heart. And he could bake Clint a cake without calling it a birthday cake, couldn’t he?

Twenty minutes later he wasn’t sure that he could. The mixer in his apartment had just flung flour and eggs across his face and the rest of the kitchen. Ok, Rogers, regroup, just start slowly with the mixer this time. The batter came together better this time, mostly without flying out of the mixing bowl. Experimentally Steve tasted a bit off a finger, and smiled. He poured it into a prepared pan and it went in the oven. 

Forty-six minutes later the kitchen was filled with smoke and a horrible screeching emitted from the walls.Steve went careening into the kitchen to see why it looked like he had accidentally baked a bomb. He turned off the oven and jabbed at the ceiling to force the alarm shut off. The cake was a charred puck, shrunken in the pan, unfit for even the lowest standards of human consumption. Thinking he must have mistimed something, Steve started over, cleaned the burnt pan, and put a second cake into the oven. 

With the windows opened to try and disperse the smoke, Steve looked up some cake recipes. Only fifteen minutes to bake? I used to bake that cake for an hour and a half. The disparity between baking times sent him down a rabbit hole about electricity and modern appliance engineering. By the time he came up for air, he had a plan. He also thought he could talk Tony’s ear off about ovens next time he sees him.

A loud knock on Steve’s front door jolted him out of his icing zone. His head jerked up. Clint. “Just a minute!” he hollered towards the door. Somewhere between cake three and four Steve had gone into full mission mode and had almost forgotten why he was baking a cake in the first place. Clint. Clint who was currently at his door. Clint who’s birthday it was. Clint, who Steve really hoped would want to stick around a while, with him. The icing on the cake in front of him was smooth, and the piped edges were even, but plain. In an attempt to finish it up quickly Steve grabbed the purple sprinkles on the counter and started shaking them all over. Satisfied, he wiped his hands off on a tea towel and went to the door. 

Clint looked good. Maybe Kate had taken him shopping, or maybe she was just holding the rest of his wardrobe hostage.

”You going to let me in, Rogers?”

“Yeah, of course, you want a drink?” Steve backed up quickly to let Clint pass him.  
“I’m good,” he sniffed the air and smiled, “Are you baking?” Steve immediately colored pink.

“I baked a cake.”

“Mmm, cake,” Clint leaned in close to Steve, “I think you’re got some icing, right here,” he said and licked a smudge of white icing off of Steve’s increasingly pink cheek. Clint pulled back and grinned. Steve wiped at his cheek and pecked Clint’s lips.

“Let me uh, get my shoes,” Steve said and walked towards his bedroom.

“Are you going to make me wait until after dinner for my cake?”

“Who said I made it for you?” Steve called back over his shoulder. 

Steve freshened up quickly, and changed into the clothes he had picked for dinner. They were headed to a trendy gastropub, nice enough for a date night, but not so fancy or overpriced to make either of them uncomfortable. One of Steve’s favorite things about Clint was that he understood when Steve chose to repair things instead of buying new, and how Steve had a compulsion to shop around for deals in a way most of the others did not. With a glance in the mirror to comb his hair and straighten his shirt, Steve headed back out.

Clint was facing the abandoned mess in the kitchen when Steve came up behind him, and wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist. 

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hmm?” Steve replied with his face against Clint’s cheek.

“What did you do?” Steve opened his eyes and the abandoned mess in his kitchen looked back at him. Batter splattered across the fridge, flour sprinkled the floor, and the jar of sprinkles were on their side with a small purple puddle on the counter under them. Across the counters a variety of cakes were strewn in disarray, slowly improving until at the far end sat the beautiful, final cake. Steve blinked.

“I baked you a cake.”

“Rogers, I see, one, two, three, more than that. What happened?” Clint turned around in Steve’s embrace to face him. Steve smiled abashedly back. 

“I forgot about modern appliances. That ovens can easily maintain their temperatures now, but then I had to do it again, adjusted, and then I wanted it to be perfect. Did you know Pillsbury makes 31 flavors of cake mix?” 

“Somehow, I doubt you used a box mix.”

“Of course not! But it was research. Know thy enemy. This is basic strategy, Barton, keep up. Anyway, I had this recipe I used to make, probably the only thing I made Buck ever got excited about.”

“Because it wasn’t boiled?”

“We didn’t actually boil everything. Quit interrupting,” Steve put his finger to Clint’s lips, and it was immediately licked, but he carried on, “But I had this recipe, and I know it by heart, so I didn’t account for oven times. And it about burned the kitchen down. So I started over. Did you know that there are over 107,000 recipes tagged as favorite on Pinterest.com?” Clint’s eyes widened, “I know! What are these people cooking? Well it turns out that there are an absurd number of repeats, so it’s not actually that bad, and a lot of the recipes are essentially the same with minor tweeks, I guess for copyright, but the food photography, Clint, I think i want to be a food photographer when I grow up, it’s so beautiful. But I had to go to the store, because there are all of these great tools now!”

“You went to the Williams Sonoma Nat likes, didn’t you?”

“I did. But I’ve never seen her cook, so I don’t know why she likes it. But they have this baking spray, and it’s supposed to be the holy grail of baking spray, which, spray! That’s new. It definitely worked-”

“I can’t believe you went to Manhattan for baking tools. Seriously?”

“It’s not even in Midtown, it was fine. It wasn’t even rush hour. But, Clint, they have all these cool bits for decorating. And the pans, Clint you wouldn’t believe, they have a cake pan shaped like a football stadium! So I got some of the good stuff, and I tried again. I tried a recipe from pinterest, what are they called, mom bloggers? And it came out… weird, which maybe I should have expected when I added the zucchini,” Clint blanched, “It’s meant to add moisture and sneak in nutrition. Yeah, I agree, it was a bad idea. We’re not eating that one. So anyway, I finally made a cake that looks like a cake, and smells like a cake, and maybe, if we’re lucky, it will taste like a cake,” Steve said triumphantly. Clint shifted uncomfortably in his arms, “Hey, what?”

“That’s an awful lot of effort, Steve,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged and blushed a little, “Maybe. But I like you a lot.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Clint said and swallowed, not meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Unless you’re about to break up with me, I think you’re wrong,” Steve pulled Clint down onto the giant sofa next to him, “You’re not, right?”

Clint shook his head. “Doesn’t mean you’re not way out of my league.”

“Look, I know you’re the king of negative self talk-”

“Oh my god, Steve, please don’t theraperize me.”

“That’s not even a word. And I’m not. Look. I really like you. And I wanted to do something nice for you, so you’d know, how special I think you are, and if that makes you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, that really isn’t what I was going for.” 

They sat there for a minute, quietly, with their shoulders pressed up against each other.

“Thank you,” Clint said, still staring at the floor, “For caring and stuff.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replied and squeezed his hand. Clint sighed and leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Steve stood up and hauled Clint up with him, and pulled him to the door. In the elevator Steve leaned in close to Clint to speak, “And when we get back, I’m gonna do that thing to you with my tongue, and then I’m going to feed you cake.”

“Mmm,” Clint suppressed a grin, “I hope it’s chocolate.”

Color drained from Steve’s face at the dawning horror, that he needed to bake another cake.

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/bak-klene-zt-nonstick-baking-spray/) is my Holy Grail baking spray from Williams Sonoma. It's called Bak-klene ZT. It's incredible.
> 
> The youtube channel TastingHistory made a video that really inspire this work, called [What does a 1920s Birthday Cake Taste Like?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENJbVgjFwF0)


End file.
